


play dead (guess the end is here)

by pinkmaggit



Category: Metallica
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Injury, Gen, Horror, Knives, Psychological Horror, Telekinesis, can you tell that ive been watching a lot of horror movies lately, i guess ?, short + sweet LMAO, uh oh !!! uh oh !!!, ummm idk how to tag this lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkmaggit/pseuds/pinkmaggit
Summary: His hands are still shaking, nails stained black with the well of blood.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	play dead (guess the end is here)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witchfynde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchfynde/gifts).
  * Translation into Français available: [play dead (guess the end is here) - [FR]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27552976) by [enkre (inkk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/enkre)



> **edit:** translation above done by the most wonderful inkk !! <3
> 
> whats up gays and goths im back happy early halloween (october is absolutely my fav month lol)
> 
> witchfynde had the GENIUS idea of some horror aus and i am but a lil horror-loving clown here to deliver the goods >:-) u are my most esteemed partner in crime thank u for ur amazing ideas <3<3<3
> 
> this could probably be accurately described as latent telekinetic loses control over their newfound powers and shit goes downhill (this isn't. y'know. the usual shit i post but !! so it goes)
> 
> enjoy ? :'-)

Kirk’s not sure how it’s gone so wrong.

Not sure how they never noticed.

But they’ve managed to miss it- managed to miss the strange warp of metal and the shatter of glass and the ceramic crash of breaking mugs all along, miss the terror thick and heavy in the air, the hum and crackle of something inhuman- and now they’re paying for it.

And it built up slowly and exploded split-second, like a firework going off in their faces. Burning bright, so bright, searing into their brains.

Lars and James are arguing. Nothing new, of course. Poor Jason’s been dragged in by Lars, torn between trying to appease the both of them and mitigating the collateral damage.

“Oh, come _on_ , Het. You’re just being fuckin’ _stubborn_. Tell him, Jason.”

Jason swallows weakly, glancing up at Kirk, an obvious plea for help. Kirk winces, looking at his feet, avoiding Jason’s gaze.

He isn’t really sure what to say, anyways.

James snorts, rolling his eyes. Kirk can feel the emanating waves of frustration coming off his stiff figure, and he silently says a prayer in thanks that he’s not involved in this mess. 

“Fuck _off_ , Lars. And _you-_ ” he hisses suddenly, pointing at Jason, “Quit being a fucking _pussy_ , already, trying to be a mediator. I’m _sick_ of it, and-”

And it’s the final straw. The stick that breaks the camel’s back.

Just one little sentence, snarled out between James’ teeth, resentment and anger and frustration all rolled into an inky-black, sickly mess, sharp and biting.

The beer bottle in James’ hand explodes.

Sprays green-glass shards _everywhere,_ tinkling to the ground. James swears, Lars yelps. It’s shockingly loud, sudden and nearly deafening. The beer splatters all over the carpet, fizzing up and staining in little pools.

James’ hand is bleeding; the three of them stare at the well of blood astonishedly. 

Then the other bottles in the box explode. The table overturns, crashing heavily to the ground. There's the rip of drapes, the shatter of cutlery, loud bangs and thuds as all their gear is upended, cables and picks and dirty laundry spilling out across the carpet.

“Shit- _fuck_!” James shouts. 

“ _What the fuck_?”

It's like the eye of the storm: objects swirl through the air, circling wildly. There's dirty socks and crumpled music magazines and Lars’ beat-up walkman, spiralling in a frenzy.

Jason’s in the middle. 

He’s hovering, inches above the ground, limp. 

The worst is his face. All contorted in terror, abject horror writ across his features, his body like putty in the hands of some supernatural force. 

And he’s _bleeding;_ trailing oozily from his nose, bubbling up from the corners of his eyes, dripping heavily down his lips and chin and splattering onto the carpet. His eyes are blown out to the whites, rolling wildly in terror. It’s horrifying; makes Kirk’s heart drop to his stomach.

Lars lets out a little gasp. Kirk and James’ eyes meet, faces deathly-pale.

_Oh, god._

The bus shudders, creaking on its wheels. Jason shivers, his head lolling forwards, and then it’s like the spell breaks and everything _stops_.

Jason takes a gaspy breath. Collapses to the grungy carpet on his knees, choking for air, bloody hands staining where he grips in an attempt to anchor himself. The objects swirling around him- James’ sneakers, cassettes, packs of cigarettes and chunks of glass and crushed-up takeout bags- fall to the ground.

The three of them are frozen.

Kirk swallows, choking on his inhale in his fear. 

“What’s- what’s wrong with me?” Jason gasps raggedly. His hands are drenched, stained bright red. His eyes are terrified, searching their faces for answers none of them have.

Kirk is sure he’s no longer breathing.

Jason’s next breath is rattly. Like he’s biting back the urge to sob.

“What’s- what’s _wrong with me_?”

That’s not something they can answer.

“Oh, god,” Jason moans, “Oh, god, what's wrong with me, what's wrong with me, _what's wrong with me_?” His hands come up to grip his face, smearing blood all over his cheeks, eyes flicking wildly around the room, like he's scared of something none of them can see.

It’s like a broken record, the way Jason’s voice rises in pitch, in fear; Kirk thinks of the Exorcist, for one horrible moment.

He wants to throw up. Jason’s face is horribly, terrifyingly pale against the blood. 

Sniffling, Jason wipes at the blood that's still dripping from his nose as he gets unsteadily to his feet, legs shivering under his weight. 

Kirk swallows, shakily. Pinches himself, scrunching his eyes shut, praying that this is all just a bad dream. When his eyes reopen and Jason's still standing there like Carrie after the prom, Kirk's heart drops.

“There’s- I don’t- I don't know what's wrong, I _don't-_ ” Jason says, voice wobbling. “Why's there so much blood- I don't- _I don't know what's wrong with me-!”_

It's a sob.

Jason takes an unsteady half-step towards them, his hands outstretched. Lars lets out a little yelp of fear, the three of them recoiling. Pressing themselves back, away from Jason.

Kirk feels guilt sink heavy in the pit of his stomach, thick and choking at the terror-worry-hopelessness swimming across Jason’s face. 

His hands are still shaking, nails stained black with the well of blood.

James and Lars swallow heavily. “Fuck- _don’t_ ,” Lars says finally, “Don't- don't come closer.” His voice is shaky. _Afraid._

There’s an unspoken _please_ in there; _please, don’t come closer, we don’t know what’s wrong, we can’t help, we’re as scared as you are, we don’t know._

 _We don’t know_ **_you_** _, anymore._

Jason’s eyes are wet.

It’s like a trainwreck. Dumpster fire. Car crash in fast-motion.

Kirk feels like he's been cast in resin. 

“ _Please_ ,” Jason whines. “I don't- I don't know- you gotta help me- _please-_ ”

There's a sharp metallic scrape. 

Kirk jolts, realizing James has pulled his switchblade out and is pointing it at Jason, white-knuckling the handle. 

Jason's three feet away from them but it might as well be miles, be _inches_ ; reality seems to warp, slowing down, seconds stretching to days.

Their breaths are all unsteady. 

James’ knife glimmers. Pointed straight at Jason's heart.

“Stay- _stay back_ ,” James grits out, anger masking the fear Kirk knows is gathering underneath his skin. “Stop- _stop_.”

They're all terrified.

Jason shivers, tears sliding down his cheeks, hands restlessly gripping at his arms, curled in on himself. “I- _please_ ,” he sobs, “Please, please- _PLEASE_!”

And then the windows shatter.

Lars screams, James shouts. Kirk falls to his knees, shielding his face against the burst of glass, shards tinkling across the furniture. The television crashes to the ground, doors ripping off their hinges. There’s the deafening squeal of metal ripping and deforming, warping and distorting.

The bus rocks on its wheels, knocking them back and forth, all their stuff crashing down and spinning wildly through the air.

It's like Kirk’s underwater, everything happening in a haze, barely able to see between his arms covering his face.

Above it all, there's Jason's strained voice, _screaming_.

It's awful.

Kirk covers his ears, shivering and trying to hold on to something, _anything_.

Jason's voice goes rough, raspy. Broken as he cries. There's another shatter of glass, like a gunshot over James and Lars’ terrified shouts, before there's a choked gasp.

Everything goes still.

Kirk looks up.

His eyes drift over Jason's figure, taking in the hot, wet blood spreading over his clothes.

Then he notices the knife. 

James’ knife, in Jason's guts.

_Oh, god._

Jason's hands shake, come away bright with blood as he feels around the knife. 

Kirk feels his mouth drop open. 

A pained whimper escapes Jason's throat. A sniffle. A moan, a sob. 

His eyes are _scared,_ when they meet Kirk's.

Jason hits the ground hard on his knees. Slumps forwards weakly. 

Kirk feels his vision tunnel. 

Jason's hands, red with blood. 

Staining the carpet. 

Kirk's almost grateful when everything goes black.

**Author's Note:**

> >:-) mwah ilu all thanks for reading <3<3
> 
> tumblr @[pinkmaggitmp3](https://pinkmaggitmp3.tumblr.com)


End file.
